


The Human Illusion

by OurMidnightMuse



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/F, Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-23 13:11:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9658904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OurMidnightMuse/pseuds/OurMidnightMuse
Summary: (Fantasy AU/Hero and Fairy) Otabek is a first assistant Magister for the crown. At a young age he is given the mission to capture and return with a blond-haired green-eyed fairy youth. After an overwhelming failure and a challenge from the fae himself, Otabek returns home. Eight years later his mission is renewed with an ultimatum; Complete or do not return.(TWs will preface each chapter in the beginning notes as they come.)





	1. A Hunt Too Soon - Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my work! I hope these first couple of chapters find you well! Please let me know what you think and follow!

“It's just ahead, men!”

The clamor of steel studded boots mixed with the sounds of the damp sloshing and caterwauling of the wildlife around them. The cacophony startled most of the nearby animals into scurrying away, or at the very least hiding, their curious eyes peering out at the foreigners to their land. The armored men and women’s hauberks and plate mail clattered together with each step, alerting anything living to their whereabouts for the better part of a league. It seemed as though the armored either did not notice this, or perhaps they simply did not care. They blindly focused on where they needed to be and surged on.

Amongst them was a tall, dark-haired boy, who was not quite a man. His hauberk fit loosely on his frame, plate mail shifting uncomfortably as he kept up with the group. It was his first unsupervised hunt with the guard and the young apprentice was determined not to be left behind for something as silly as his mail not fitting him correctly. Subconsciously, the young man reached and gripped the darkly dyed leather bandolier that was slung diagonally over his chest from left shoulder to right hip. Inside were the tools of his trade. Each pouch held a small bottle, which in turn each carried a bespelled powder or liquid that would aide in the capture of their target. The bandolier marked him as a practitioner of the old arts of the arcane and the elemental. The color of the bandolier, as well as his embroidered surcoat, a deep cobalt, further marked him as a first apprentice; nearly a Magister himself. The gold embroidery that lined the hems of his neck, wrists, and knees took the pattern of hundreds of petite five-pointed stars, each with a tiny silver sword through the center, pointing down. This further marked him as a magician of the royal family.

The shouts of the soldiers ahead of him brought him back into the situation at hand. Bellows and cries to ready himself filled the air causing clumsy hands to fumble with his bandolier, desperately undoing the buckled straps. His chestnut eyes desperately searched for the target they were shouting about when the hopeful orbs fell upon the clearing before them. Time seemed to slow as he took the sight in, an eerie sensation that he assumed was caused by the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins.

Pillars of sunlight descended into the clearing, dust and pollen wafting through the air to create elegant illusions of sparkles. The soft trickle of a small cascade echoed against the walls of the clearing, drawing the young conjurer’s eyes towards the spotlit center of the lush glade. A mushrooming stone stood there, a vibrant mixture of beryl and jade green moss covering its expanse. Thousands of depressions veined across the moss and stone alike, allowing the water to umbrella over the clearest pool the young man had ever seen. His eyes followed the water up, assessing that the transparent bluish liquid fell from the center of the canopy of stars with no assessable beginning or end. A faerie’s fall. It was something that the caster’s apprentice had only read about up until now. He focused, eyes darting down to the veil of water under the mushroomed stone.

Tanned lips parted in a gasp as his eyes took in the faint glowing shapes. In the center of the mass, two oblong orbs twinkled. They were an odd sort of Prussian-green that entranced the spell-caster, drawing him in until his booted toes sloshed at the very edge of the atypically still water. The sound of swords being drawn and arrows being nocked joined the sound of the trickling water just as the shape elongated into a small, childlike humanoid shape.

“Stay still!” His fingers withdrew two small bottles from the bandolier as he shouted, thumbs popping them open. “Now! Step out of the rock shelter slowly. Do not make any sudden moves or I will rend you asunder!” The young man held the two bottles in his left hand as he called upon the contents with his right. Rapidly, a light grew from the bottles as ribbons of velvety chromatic powders filled the air around him, writhing like snakes. “Move now!”

After a brief hesitation, there was a part in the falls as fingers slid through. Oddly enough, the water did not touch the flesh of the small being as it stepped through. Rather, it seemed to spatter away from the smooth, unblemished skin as it came. The dark-haired male’s breath caught in his throat as the glowing being stepped through, its dewy wings beating in a slow, lazy stretch. He hesitated in his attack, taking in the sight with trembling sorrel eyes. Blond hair, each strand seemingly made of the purest golden starlight, languidly flowed around the doll-like being’s head and shoulders as if some unfelt breeze blew. 

“Otabek! Do not lose focus!” A soldier warned as she stepped up beside him. She trained her arrow to the forehead of the childlike faefolk.

The teenaged practitioner swallowed and nodded as he stepped forward into the pool of strangely warm water. He stared into the blue-green eyes of his prey while he approached, struggling to find any threat in the frail being. Methodically, his right finger traced a series symbols in the smoke drawn from the bottles. Gradually the symbols glowed, brighter and brighter until they looked as though they could be cut from the sun itself. As suddenly as they appeared at their brightest, the marks shot forward towards the faerie. Otabek’s face contorted to confusion as they seemingly went through the being and disappeared into the rock behind. For a moment he second guessed his spell casting but realized that he had done nothing out of the ordinary. Those marks should have formed a binding around the hands and feet, immobilizing a target’s body with the flow of magic between them but for some reason they had failed.

“Otabek!” A cry from behind him made the young male jump, his hauberk sliding uncomfortably down his back so that the neck constricted his throat. His prey’s image was fading before him, as if the dying spray of a waterfall that had quite abruptly run out of water. His eyes widened as he whirled around to see his guard all searching desperately for the fae. 

“Anya!” He shouted, his head spinning as he too searched for the escaped prey. “Anya! It’s an illusion! Where is-“ Otabek gasped as his eyes landed on the childlike creature, its curious eyes peaking out of a nearby pine tree. Hesitation hit the dark-haired male as he watched the faerie raise a finger to its lips, a smirk growing on its face. Otabek felt as though time had stopped completely for him as his eyes looked around at the soldiers, who at this moment seemed to be moving very slowly indeed. His eyes sped back forward to the fae. All too suddenly, the creature began to move its lips and an eerie voice began to sound from within the magically inclined male’s head.

“Why have you brought these people into my forest? You are from far away, are you not? Why have you tread here?” The very young male voice asked.

Otabek blinked, looking around and noticing that each and every one of his guards had frozen in place. A tremor of terror crept over Otabek as he observed the frost that was growing across the guard’s skin, mail, and clothing. Icicles began to build onto their fingertips and noses. He looked again at the young faerie, this time with a sense of alarm and reverence. “Are… are you-“

“Yes,” this time the faerie spoke with his own voice, wings beating slowly as he dropped himself from the low branch of the pine to the ground below. “I’m talking to you. Why are you here? Is your land not large enough for your people? You should explore South, if that’s the case. Perhaps the dwarves would welcome new workers for their mines.”

Otabek found himself stammering for a moment, at a loss of what to tell the young fae. Surely the truth that he was sent to capture the blond haired, green eyed faerie of this forest for the King would get him into some great amount of trouble. That is, if he wasn’t already. “Ah… You see I was-“

The blond fae suddenly glared at the young human before him. He raised his arms, crossing them over his pale chest as he batted his shimmering wings, a sign of irritation. His hips cocked to one side allowing the loose white fabric that was wrapped around his waist to part slightly, revealing an unflawed thigh completely bereft of wound or hair. “You came… To capture me?” He said, digging his left heel into the mossy forest floor. “You think you can? You’re still awful early in your abilities to be trying this, aren't you?” He chuckled as he began walking closer, startling the young man into stumbling backwards further into the water. It now reached his waist, soaking through his surcoat, mail, and woolen undergarments in seconds. “You should give it up,” he said, running slender porcelain fingers through his pale locks. “You’re no good for this kind of magic. Have you tried other forms? Maybe spellsinging or elemental drawing?”

Otabek bit the inside of his lip, feeling somewhat affronted. He nearly pulled off a scowl at the small bodied creature before he was once more alarmed. Somehow the faerie had appeared directly in front of him, their noses nearly touching. As much as he tried, Otabek could not find the strength to move. There he stood, much like a deer caught in an unknown light; frozen, his eyes wide. Desperately the young man tried to tear his gaze away from those eerie blue-green orbs that had caught his, but he was defenseless. Otabek was trapped by the ominous gaze of the other, his heart beating wildly.

The faerie smirked and leaned upwards onto his toes, pressing their lips together his wings fluttering softly to support his balance. Otabek’s heartbeat pounded in his ears, fire pouring itself all over his skin in an instant. The feel of the perplexing creatures lips against his own was cool and soft, much like an untouched silk that had been left in a winter’s breeze.

Yet as soon as Otabek had begun to comprehend the kiss, it had vanished, the faerie stepping backwards with a devious grin. His pink tongue ran over his upper lip leaving a damp sheen behind. “That should help you,” he said, though Otabek could hardly hear him over his own heartbeat. “Come back to me when you’re stronger, okay? It’s no fun competing against someone who isn’t able to fight back once he lays eyes on me. Come for me once you’ve reached manhood,” he stepped back further. “By the way… my name isn’t, “it.” My name is Yurochka. You can call me Yuri.” With a gentle, playful wave, the fae vanished in a mist.

Otabek unsteadily stepped forward and out of the pool before he fell to his knees. The sound of ice crackling began in a wave of motion as all of his guards awakened at once, the shouts beginning once more as they searched for the faerie that was not there. Otabek shivered, reaching a hand up to gingerly touch his lips. They still tingled.

“Otabek!” The shout startled him from his daze as Anya ran to him, her strong hands hoisting him to his feet. “What is wrong? What’s happened? You look as white as a sheet! We’ve no time to waste!” She said, trying to coax him into the hunt again to which Otabek shook his head lightly.

“He’s gone,” his voice sounded meek, as he shuddered, half in fear an half in anger. Perhaps fourteen was too young to hunt after all. “He’s left. We will not catch him this time.”

Anya observed the humbled expression on the boy’s face and frowned. Her eyes shifted down to her surcoat, widening as she noted the melting ice that was still encrusted there. “I… see,” she said, laying a hand on the young man’s broad chest. “Cousin, not every hunt is successful. I fear we have greatly underestimated this one. So… don’t feel guilty over it. I am a guard of over ten years and I could do nothing.”

Otabek nodded at the woman before him before straightening his damp, navy blue surcoat and bandolier. He replaced the vials, closing them tightly before bucking them in again. Otabek sucked in a breath before shouting to his guards, “Stop your search!” His commanding tone left no room for argument, “The fae has escaped! At our current strength we are no match! We will return to His Majesty at once to report our, no, my failure!”

Indignation swallowed, Otabek began his march back to the castle in Belsorov. Begrudgingly, the men and women in his party began to follow, each and every one not looking forward to the scolding that they would receive from their superiors for this failure.


	2. An Early Morning

Otabek stirred within a dream, rolling onto his right side as his bare legs tangled in the woolen blankets that he laid with. A cool touch met his skin, soft and slender fingers caressing his face from cheekbone to chin in a gesture that one would almost describe as loving. A gentle voice called to him, though in his dreaming state the dark-haired male couldn’t quite make out the words. The pleasurable touch repeated at the same time the voice did, this time with a bit more purpose, as if someone were trying to wake him as gently as they could and yet with some urgency. Otabek sighed into the touch, willing himself to hear the voice a bit more clearly.

“-ome to –e,” Otabek’s brow furrowed at the staggered, confusing muffle of a voice. “-m to me.” It seemed to be repeating something just out of his earshot. All at once the comforting touch was gone, replaced by a coarse, burning sensation that caused pain to blossom in his cheek. He gasped, turning once more towards the right. A shout tore itself from his throat as the sensation of falling enveloped him, visions of cliff sides and ravines shaking him to his core. The young man awoke just as he hit the floor, panting and scrambling to untangle himself from the blankets, which at this moment felt more like the tendrils of some great beast than a comforting throw. His back met the nightstand beside his bed as he scuttled backward, eyes darting around the room to search for the unknown person that had been speaking to him.

Once the sweating male noticed that there was no one in the small room other than him he heaved a sigh, his head hanging down. This dream had come without fail every night for over a month. Damp clumps of his hair fell into his face sticking unpleasantly to his forehead and cheeks. Quickly, he brushed them away to look upwards at the window, assessing the time of night. Chestnut brown eyes mapped out the stars, leading him to the conclusion that it was only about an hour before he would normally rise. There was no use in going back to sleep now.

Stiffly, Otabek rose from his piles of blankets, nude, tawny flesh thrilling in the cool autumn night air. He stretched, built arms raising into the air as he groaned and flexed. Hundreds of tiny, pale scars flecked his body, proof that his build had been hard earned from years of combat and magical training. A sigh wretched itself from his throat as his arms fell down by his sides. Earthy brown eyes shifted towards the fireplace in his room, which by now had died down to only a slight glow.

“First things first…” he muttered as he sauntered towards the fireplace, bare feet chilling on the cold stone flooring. Otabek reached upwards, his hands wrapping around several cut logs that lay on the shelf above the bricking to the hearth. Strong arms pulled them down before tossing them into the ash of the previous fire, small wisps of soot spiraling into the air almost mimicking serpents. The broad male knelt down, his fingers tracing magical symbols in the air over the cut wood. With a soft breath, Otabek let the symbols flutter downwards, scorching the wood and beginning a strong fire that would last for the next couple of hours at least. He watched as the flames licked greedily at the fresh wood, their swirling tongues dancing in the reflection of his eyes.

A knock at the door startled the young man back to reality as he stood, quickly grabbing the towel from the end of his bed. He tied it firmly around his waist before beckoning to the person on the other side of the door. “Yes? Who is it at this hour?” He called, “Come in.”

The door swung open slowly, allowing a breeze to come through. Gooseflesh again rose on Otabek’s tanned skin though he paid it no mind. Soon, a blonde-haired woman rounded the door, closing it behind her. Her silver-toned armor and helmet that she held at her side marked her as a member of the armed guard, though Otabek knew this wasn’t her usual shift. A curious eyebrow rose at his guest as she looked up at him with a rather unimpressed gaze.

“Nude? Is that how you greet your guests?” She scolded, crossing her rather built arms over her mail-covered chest.

The low rumble of a chuckle exited Otabek’s throat as he looked over the woman. “Anya, it can’t be more than four in the morning. I wasn’t expecting any guests. What’s more, you shouldn’t be due for guard for another two hours, like me. What are you doing here?” He asked, placing a hand over the knot in the towel, ensuring that it wouldn’t slip in the presence of his guard. “Has something happened?”

Anya blinked at her charge, her brows knitting together a moment later. “You are due for a meeting with the King this morning. Have you forgotten? You are due an hour to the crow. You should already be washed at least. The boys at the bath have had your water warm for at least half an hour. I came to ensure you were alright since it’s unlike you to be late.”

Otabek hissed inwards through his teeth. “The Prince…”

“You know he is acting King right now in the King’s illness, Otabek. Now isn’t the time for your petty objections; you have to be ready in less than an hour!” She scolded, her wise eyes narrowing at the young man before her. Only the wrinkles at the edges of her bright viridian eyes would belie her age, for overall she looked no more than twenty-five. Otabek knew that she was, in fact, much older, using charms and creams from the King’s apothecary to keep her looking young.

Pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes, Otabek sighed. “You’re right. Let me just throw on some breeches and I will go down for my bath. Two seconds, I promise, just turn around,” he gestured a spinning motion at her which only made her snort.

“You’ve nothing I haven’t seen before, child,” she clicked her tongue, turning away regardless to allow privacy to her younger.

Otabek couldn’t stifle a laugh as he rolled his eyes. “You said it, not me,” he muttered as he untangled the towel from his hips. Quickly, Otabek walked over to his dresser and opened it, fishing out a pair of leggings and an undershirt before slipping into them. He pretended not to notice his elder chuckle to herself at the quip, muttering something to herself in return. The tall male toed on a pair of soft leather slippers before securing his sword belt to his hip; a habit. It was one that came from many years of training, something that he would never forget.

“I’m decent,” he said to the woman in front of the door, who in turn reached forward, her gauntleted hand gripping the knob before she pulled it open.

“Then let’s make haste. You may still be on time if you move quickly. Your clothing is already set up in the bath chamber. Now light a fire under it!” She began walking as a brisk pace, her hobnailed boots tapping rhythmically with each stride. The young magister’s assistant followed closely behind, slippered feet silent by comparison.

The walls on this end of the palace were comparatively bare to the main halls. The simple tapestries and old armor that lined the walls here looked like rubble once one looked at the divine silks and regarded weapons of hallowed warriors that decorated the main palace. Accents of gold and silver glittered in the main halls; the telltale ornate style of the Kings and Queens of past. Otabek preferred the simple style of his halls, however. He had never been the type to enjoy the meretricious style of royalty. It only served to overwhelm him, having spent his early childhood living in a modest home with a dirt floor.

Otabek recalled those days as they walked, nearing the bath hall. He had grown up in a small and rather poor country to the south of the rather large one he lived in and served now. He had been regarded as overwhelmingly average until his inclination towards the magical arts had shown itself at the age of ten. Otabek had found himself able to renew the vitality of the plant and wildlife alike to some degree and had exposed this ability in front of his mother in order to replenish her flower garden. Once wilting flowers bloomed brightly overnight for the small boy. Of course, rumor of a rare magically inclined boy spread fast throughout their village and it hadn’t been long before his parents had received an offer. Still just a boy, his parents had agreed to accept on the letter of the Magister of the large land to the North, and to send their son to become a future Magister to the crown in exchange for fifty gold yarins and a small land holding across the border. Otabek knew he had been sent away for his own benefit, to escape the starving country he had been birthed in, and yet he still at times felt as though he had been sold off. A bitter chuckle left his lips.

“Look alive, child!” Anya shouted, startling Otabek into stepping backwards narrowly avoiding running headlong into the door to the bath hall. “Try to stay awake! We have a very busy day, I can feel it.”

Otabek’s eyes rolled once more as he reached forth and wretched the large mahogany door open. “My typical bath room, correct?” He asked, looking back at her. Once she nodded, he took the lead, heading towards the last room. The deep mahogany wood shimmered in the low torchlight. Silver filled crevices illustrated the great tree of birth. Each branch of the massive tree held a mythological creature, demonstrating how all life was related in some way; from the elves of the far West, to the faeries to the North. Deeply embossed in the center was an etching of the human, arms outstretched as if encouraging all creatures to him. Each creature had a gemstone placed in their person, displaying the element they most related to and therefore the power they could draw upon the most. Otabek paused at the door for a moment, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he reached forward, caressing the blue gem on the faerie. The image of the small blond fae popped into his mind, the memory of the kiss he had been given causing a scarlet blush to dust his cheeks and ears. His heart raced.

The flames of the torches surged as the memory crossed his mind, as if somehow empowered by the addition of a sudden gush of oil. Anya placed a light hand on Otabek’s shoulder, attempting to snap him out of his thoughts. For years she had overseen his training with Magister Aliyev, watching the young child grow from a simpering whelp into a fetching man. To this day Anya could not explain the sudden development of raw power that had occurred inside the man before her. She had first noticed it upon their return from his failed first hunting trip during his scolding. As the Magister had chided him in the garden the water seemed to flow ever faster from the offshoot of the aqueduct into the King’s fountain causing the water to lap at the base of the rose bushes and bricked trails that surrounded it. She recalled the flames on the nighttime torches engorging from the size of a pillbox to the size of a guard’s helmet as the wind picked up, as if greatly excited by the young man’s anger. Of course, the Magister had noticed this as well, gleefully placing the suddenly more powerful youth under more rigorous training.

Anya again gripped his shoulder, this time shaking the man before her. At once the flames died down, Otabek’s head turning to glance at her over his shoulder. His eyes appeared apologetic. “Sorry, Anya,” he muttered before opening the decorated door and stepping inside.

There was no denying that the day of the failed hunting trip had influenced him. Otabek would be lying if he said it hadn’t. He could feel the difference in himself no more than seconds after the faerie had escaped. It had been as if his core was pulsing with some unknown need; a power unfulfilled within. It seemed impossible, what that faerie had achieved in the very moment of their interaction. Faefolk were tricky creatures, this Otabek knew, however he still to this day could not guess why the creature would have given him the blessing that he had. He had always been told that faeries consistently baleful to their human counterparts, choosing rather to trick and slight rather than to become allies. The midnight-haired male simply could not, after five years, rationalize the blond fae’s intentions.

The young man cast the thought aside as the bathhouse attendants began to guide him to the rather large copper tub in the center of the room. The sulfurous scent of the drawn hot spring water within was comforting to the tall mage, reminding him of days spent in his country of birth. His baths as a child were always in the strong, mineral-rich water so similar to this. The memory brought a smile to his lips as he glanced back at Anya who had by now closed the door and was sitting cross legged on the floor, her eyes closed. Whether it was to give Otabek privacy or whether she was catching a short nap, he didn’t know, but either way was fine with him.

Otabek allowed the attendants to disrobe him, taking the barely-worn clothing away to be washed yet again. He observed the young men and smiled when he was gestured to climb into the bath, which he did promptly. Lowering himself onto the wooden planks that lined the bottom of the metal tub he sighed, reclining so the young blond male beside him could begin the job of washing his hair. Years ago Otabek had fought this routine, instead insisting upon washing himself. He closed his eyes as he recalled the memories. Somewhere along the way he had gotten used to being bathed rather than bathing himself.

The serving boy swallowed hard as he used the bowl to scoop and pour water over the relatively well-known mage’s hair, thoroughly soaking it before applying the sandalwood scented soaps to the locks. Otabek sighed at the others touch, enjoying the sensation of fingers running through his hair, massaging the soap into fluffy peaks. The blond watched carefully to ensure that the soap did not run into the eyes of his patron. “You… You are awake early today. Have you something to do?” He asked quietly, unsure if he should speak at all. It certainly was frowned upon but he had seen this particular mage chatting with his attendants a few times before.

Otabek opened one eye and nodded at the young male. He noted to himself that the man before him had to be no more than his own age; twenty-two. “Yes… I’ve a meeting with the acting King this morning. It is likely that I will be being sent on some sort of odd job, you know how erratic he is. Say, what is your name?” He asked, closing his eye once more as the other moved to rinse his hair of the suds. “I haven’t had the chance to ask since I’ve only seen you three times before now.”

“Oh. My name is Alexey, but everyone around here simply calls me Alyosha. I am the son of the headmistress of the guard’s bathhouse. I was relocated to the mage’s hall just this month upon my eighteenth year,” he said, smiling kindly down at the tanned man before him.

“Mm,” Otabek hummed, enjoying the gentle strokes of the attendant’s soft hands on his head. A soft tap on his shoulder queued him to sit upright, which he did with haste. Otabek opened his eyes and smiled at the other as a lathered cloth was raised to his broad chest. “Congratulations on your coming of manhood,” he said, allowing the other to scrub him carefully. “Do you plan to stay with the bathhouse? Or do you have other ambitions?”

Alyosha picked up the mage’s arm, thoroughly washing every inch of tawny flesh. “I plan to stay. I quite enjoy the work, even if it does prune up my skin,” he chuckled, his twinkling blue eyes looking into Otabek’s chestnut ones. “I hope the other mages will be as approachable as you are. I have to admit, I was intimidated by you at first.” A strand of golden hair swung into his face, though he seemed not to notice. Alyosha just kept scrubbing at his client’s skin.

A laugh escaped Otabek’s lips while he was being rinsed once more. “Intimidated you? I’m not even a full Magister yet,” he said, smiling kindly. “You shouldn’t worry. Most of the mages in the hall are quite friendly. In fact, most of them want to chat more than I do. I think you’ll be just fine here.”

A blush tinted the fair-skinned male’s cheeks, though if it was from the compliment or for another reason one could only guess. “I appreciate that. Um,” he paused before gesturing downwards, “Could you please stand? I must tend to your lower body.”

Otabek shook his head, reaching a hand out. While he had gotten accustomed to the bathhouse attendants there were certain things that were not meant to be washed by other people. “I should like to do that myself. I appreciate it though.” Otabek held out a hand and was soon handed the cloth. He stood and made quick work of his most private areas before washing down his legs and rinsing the remaining soap from his body. “Could you hand me my towel?” He asked, startling the blond into action. Seconds later Otabek was handed a rather large and downy feeling towel. He quickly wrapped it around his waist before stepping out of the large basin and onto the rug so not to make a mess on the granite flooring.

Alyosha stepped forward with a second, smaller towel. Sheepishly he stood on his toes, reaching up to begin patting and delicately wringing at the longer strands of Otabek’s hair. Obediently, the mage leaned forward allowing the rather small male to ease back onto his heels as he worked. A single drop of water ran down his nose, hanging onto the tip for just a moment before falling onto the full cheek of the slight attendant. Alyosha wiped it absently before wiping down his patron’s shoulders, moving with practice.

In no time the golden haired male had moved down Otabek’s body, drying his legs and feet before any objections could be had, though he did leave the older male’s groin and backside for himself to do. Otabek gratefully finished the job before stepping off of the mat and into the hands of Alyosha and two other men, who immediately began to dress him. Woolen breaches and undershirt, socks, a thin vest of mail, his hauberk, and finally his usual cobalt surcoat. The two assistants stepped back, allowing Alyosha the honor of securing Otabek’s sword belt and bandolier. Looking rather pleased with himself, Alyosha stepped back and gave the mage a once over. 

“Jaska, fetch his boots and secure them. I will comb his hair,” Alyosha said to one of the assistants before gesturing for Otabek to sit for a moment. Otabek at once nodded and sat on the nearby stool. Skilled hands began to comb his dark hair, pulling the mass on top back as he added small ornamental braids along the right side. Once satisfied, Alyosha secured the length into a bun on the crown of his head. Elegantly, the remainder of the hair sticking out of the bun hung down, brushing ever so slightly against the back of his neck. “That should feel comfortable?” He asked, peeking over Otabek’s shoulder to gauge his reaction while his peer finished with the many laces and hooks on the knee high hobnail boots.

“It feels just fine,” Otabek said, coming to his feet. “I thank you, Alyosha. And you two as well,” he said, nodding towards the other two. They in turn, smiled and bowed their heads slightly. “I have to be off, thank you for your help.” Otabek began towards the door and Anya, who had most definitely nodded off at some point during his bath. He nudged her softly with the toe of his boot, awaking her with a start.

The broad woman hoisted herself to her feet, a scowl on her face. “You could have just said something instead of-“

“Anya, look at the time,” Otabek said, feigning surprise as he pointed towards the grandfather clock against the wall. “It is only ten minutes to our meeting, we had best hurry.” Otabek rushed past her, through the great door and down the hall. Close behind Anya muttered in irritation, hustling with her charge. This man would most certainly be the death of her one day, she swore.

\-----

A dim blue light illuminated the otherwise very dark glade. In the center of the mossy floor a small figure sat huddled over the even smaller circular pool; the origin of the light. His long pale locks hung down over his face as he peered into the cool water, hiding his face and very nearly dipping their tips into the mirror like liquid. His slender frame was draped in a pale, and flowing gossamer fabric. It hung lazily from his right shoulder where a small silver pin held it together. Delicately the fabric hugged from his chest to his waist before cascading over his hips to end in fine ribbons that were currently tangled between his long, unblemished porcelain legs. Shimmering wings protruded from between the middle of his shoulder blades, the permanent dew that was knitted into them refracting the blue light as it hit them.

Slowly, the figure reached a hand forward, a single finger stirring the water in a counter-clockwise motion as he spoke a few words, the language being that of his ancient fae heritage. The light coming from the pool immediately dimmed and gradually, and as the pool stilled again, a picture began to grow. It moved sluggishly at first, growing in speed until it seemed to be paying in realtime. Sound was next to come. The still silence of a sleeping room hit the figure’s pointed ears causing him to unwittingly smile. A soft snore came from the figure lying on the bed. His human. He reached forward once more, his hand waving in a gesture that the pool seemed to acknowledge by bringing the sleeping being in closer so that the grown man’s face was in view.

Green eyes examined the other male, his teeth biting at the corner of his lower lip as he grinned. Otabek had grown so much since he had seen him in person. He reached into the pool, feeling the other male’s face through the cool medium. “Come to me,” he whispered to the sleeping male, “Come to me.” In the fae’s mind he had waited long enough; eight years was a long time to a humans. The man he was so interested in had grown so much, not only in age and size but also in power. It seemed as though the seed he had passed to the other through the kiss had firmly rooted itself in Otabek, flourishing. He would be decidedly more powerful now, possibly even a threat. He caressed the other’s face more urgently, too excited to contain himself. “Come to me.”

“Yuri!” A sharp shout startled the blond faerie into pulling his hand out of the pool abruptly. “What is it that you are doing? Have I not told you to stop watching that…” The elder fae stopped short as he saw the glowing dampness on the younger’s hand and wrist. “You contacted him?! Yuri, this is going too far!”

Yuri stood up quickly, waving his hand to dismiss the portal. “It is my business who I contact! You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do!” His bare feet lifted off of the mossy forest floor as his wings beat irritably. “Why don’t you mind your business, Yakov? I know exactly what I am doing.”

The veins on the elder’s forehead bulged as he stormed forward, grabbing the rebellious youth roughly by the wrist. Down he yanked, forcing Yuri to ground himself, stumbling towards the other. “You will bring them all down upon us! They are like wolves: they never come alone! Did you want to end up like the last of us who tried to befriend a human? Viktor is still missing! He is likely dead! I don’t know what is going through your head! Your grandfather would be ashamed!”

Yuri’s face contorted. “Don’t mention that bastard’s name to me! And my grandfather would support me! I am a man now, after all! There’s something special about Otabek! You could see that if you just looked! He could finally-“

“I don’t want to hear another word!” Yakov shouted, pulling the smaller faerie away from the scrying pool. “You are forbidden from using the pools from now on! If I catch you again I will make sure you never see one for the rest of your life! Do you understand me!?” His strong fingers held steadfast onto the struggling young man’s wrist.

Yuri huffed and stopped his fighting, following the elder in mock obedience. Yuri scuffed his feet against the ground as he walked.

“I said, “do you understand me,” Yuri!”

“Yes!!” Yuri finally shouted, his face crimson with rage. He walked on, his thin, blond brows locked together in a scowl that he would show his elder every time he glanced back at him. A smirk slowly slid onto his face as Yakov stopped looking back at him. Yuri was quite sure that Otabek couldn’t stay away for much longer. Something gave the young fae the sensation that the grown mage would be paying him a visit soon enough.

“See you soon, Otabek Altin,” Yuri thought, a wicked grin playing on his lips. “I can’t wait to meet you again.”


	3. Ultimatum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (SOMEHOW I managed to mix up the chapters in posting, talk about embarrassing. Please excuse the repost, I'm fixing the order. A new chapter is coming soon though.)

The circlet of silver that had been haphazardly placed upon Otabek’s damp hair shifted as he walked, causing the young man to have to reach up to adjust it. The green gem placed in the center of his forehead dangled from the simple, yet elegantly designed vines of silver; a mage’s circlet. The moon Goddess’ symbol lay atop the gem, etched with the care and skill that only a royal goldsmith could muster. The booming voice of the woman currently in charge of announcing guests to the King sounded in the grand throne room as the massive, ornate double doors swung open for Otabek and his trusted guard. “The royal mage Altin and his fair guard Ivanov!” She called, strong voice echoing. Her crimson velvet belled sleeve bellowed around her arm as she beckoned them inside.

Otabek took the lead with his guard close behind on his right side as was appropriate. “My King,” he said as he reached the foot of the throne, quickly lowering himself to one knee, Anya following him down fluidly. A hand clad in a lamb skin glove crossed his heart and his head lowered in mandated respect. 

A soft laugh echoed in the hall as the blue eyed man upon the violet velvets before Otabek leaned forward. “Otabek, you’ve never been great at entries. You’re late you know?”

Otabek bit back a smart retort and lifted his head with a smile to his superior. “My apologies, King. I found myself waking up late this morning. I’ve no excuse to keep you waiting.” Somehow his voice sounded rebellious, despite his attempt at apologetic sincerity. “Perhaps I was awake too late last night, my King. Rest assured, I will never permit it again.”

“See that you don’t,” the proud voice said, waving a hand at the mage. “Now for why I called you,” he said, reaching up with a golden ring covered hand to correct an unseen flaw to his carefully manicured black hair. “You recall your overwhelming failure eight years ago when my father sent you to capture a fae in the North? You will go again. My father seems to think you’re capable now to take on something of that magnitude, and though I politely disagree with him, I’ll communicate his will. Upon your successful return you will be graduated to a full Magister. If you return successful, that is,” the cocky, mocking tone was clear. “I’ve selected your team for you as well. Four guard, one second assistant Magister.”

Otabek stood suddenly, an indignant look on his handsome features. “Prince Jean-Jacques!!” He exclaimed only to be firmly elbowed in the calf by the strong woman who still knelt beside him. “I-I mean, my King Leroy, this creature is beyond such a small force! This assignment is suicide! I must protest!”

The royal’s eyes blinked, a thick brow raising. “You disrespect me!” He said loudly, eyes narrowing. “You should thank the Gods that I don’t have you sent in custody by your own guard right now!” The threat made Otabek’s chestnut orbs flicker back at Anya with worry. He knew very well she would have to follow those orders if they were given. “You are lucky that I am so forgiving! See that it never happens again!” He said, glowering at the other with unfriendly blue eyes. “I will be frank; I have never liked you, first assistant Magister Altin. I don’t believe in taking back failures. I would sooner see you left penniless on the streets than have you before me today. My father disagrees, much to your benefit. You will complete this mission, and you will complete it on my terms or you will not return! You and your sniveling parents can just return to that dirt farm in God knows where! Get out of my sight! You leave immediately. Your men are waiting.”

Otabek’s face turned a dark shade of crimson in his rage. His fists shook at his side as his parents were mentioned; the same parents he had not seen in well over a decade because of his position. Anger shook his voice as he spoke, “Yes, your Majesty. I will not fail. I will return with the fae for your father.” Another lapse in etiquette would not result in a favorable outcome for him, he knew. He bowed deeply once more, trying to control his breathing. Quickly, Otabek stood, turning on his heel and exiting the royal hall with haste, Anya close behind.

Once out of earshot she cleared her throat to speak. “You have a spirit to you, cousin!” She said, clapping a hand to his back as they moved towards the preparation room where both knew from practice would hold their supplies and men. “I admire your bravery, but be careful. You do not benefit anyone with your head lopped.” This was her attempt at cheering him, Otabek knew, to which he gave a grateful nod. Anya sighed. “Your power is beyond tenfold what it was. I believe that you will capture this creature this time, with or without a full complement of men.”

Otabek raised a hand to rip off the circlet, grunting. “I… appreciate what you’re doing right now. But please, allow me this anger. That faerie has had as much time as I to grow more powerful, we do not have any idea what we will be walking into. This could be a bloodbath and he is just sending us to it with a smile!”

Anya’s expression dropped with a sigh. “I know that. But I also know that you will do everything you can to ensure these men their lives. You are not a fool, Otabek. I’ve been your guard since you came here as a child. I know you as only a parent would. Allow this old woman her pride in her pupil. Besides… You know I have no children. You’re the closest I have. I will fight with you to the end, my first assistant Magister,” Anya’s sincere and unexpected words stirred Otabek’s chest.

“A-Anya…” he whispered, looking over to her with concerned eyes. “Don’t… talk like that. You make it sound like you’d die for me.”

“That is my job, Otabek,” she said, chuckling at the younger. “Both as friend and as professional, my job is to be your sword and shield. You know that.”

Otabek shifted uncomfortably in his surcoat, his heart fluttering. Of course this woman had been like a mother to him, he had known only her for comfort since his ninth birthday when he had been taken from his birth mother. Never had Otabek expected this conversation to come between them, however. He had been taken off guard and was not sure how to handle his remarks to her. Finally he settled for honesty. “Anya, you know I care for you… I’d prefer that you… if we ever are in that situation, I prefer that you live. Do you understand me? I’m not repeating this.” His voice was firm and steady but hushed. “I will do what I can to prevent that choice from ever coming to you though. Believe me about that. I know I can’t trust you to settle on the direction I want.”

The older woman’s face flushed. “Oh shut your mouth, child! You sound like I am dying as we speak! I’m not dead yet, this old woman has a lot more fight in her!” A smack to the back of his head made Otabek laugh as they walked through the open doors to the preparation room.

Awaiting them, three guard and a single mage wearing a yellow surcoat that marked her as a second assistant Magister. Otabek strode forward at once and clapped her on both shoulders with a smile. “Well met, cousin!” He said with a hearty voice, an attempt at encouraging the nervous young woman whose age could not be more than thirteen. “You are to be my assistant, so might I ask your name? You must be new to the hall, I have not seen you.” While he conversed with the young girl, Anya greeted her fellow guard, speaking with a proud voice that showed her stature and years.

“Oh! W-Well met!” The young dark-haired girl smiled, unsure of herself as she raised a hand to the man before her. She was a tall young woman, Otabek noticed, standing nearly an inch above him at her age. Though, Otabek knew that he was fairly short so perhaps it was giving her too much credit. “My name is Valeria, cousin Altin! I arrived last year, though because of our separate classes I suspect you would never have noticed.” Her nerves showed in her stiff posture, making Otabek curious.

The mage retracted his hands from her narrow shoulders and smiled. “Well I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. I am first assistant Magister Otabek Altin. I specialize in elemental and spellsinging magics. What do you specialize in? I must know in order to utilize you properly.”

“I-I’m a summoner and tongue speaker,” she said, blushing furiously as this admission. Otabek blinked, impressed. Summoning magic was powerful indeed, though tongue speaking was fairly common amongst the magically inclined. “I’m not very good right now! But I can work my magic on many animals. I’ve not successfully summoned an elemental creature like a howl, but I can summon wild dogs and what have. I communicate effectively with them.”

Otabek smiled wide. “Very good! A summoner! That is a valuable skill for this mission!” He said genuinely. “I expect you will find this job quite useful to developing your skills. And you're a speaker? That is always a useful skill to all mages.”

Valeria’s face turned down at that. She decided to explain. “I seem to understand most dialects of fae, elf, and dwarf. I lack fluency in merfolk languages but I understand well. I also can communicate well with animals, as most mages.” Her pale fingers fidgeted with the yellow bandolier strung across the swell of her chest. “I was selected for this mission because of my proficiency in the fae languages, I was told.”

Another polite look of surprise crossed Otabek’s features. “You speak various mythical languages! That is a skill worth having!” He said, “I was wondering why you mentioned speaking, as it’s common, but I see now. That is unusual, your ability. I know a bit of elvish myself, I know how hard that is to learn. Mae g’ovannen!*”

“I faer nîn linna nan glass, hîr vuin! Mae g’ovannen!**” She spoke with excitement, green eyes finally showing something other than a timid interest.

Otabek smiled and nodded, a bit embarrassed by her formality. “Very good. You have virtually no accent! One could confuse you for…” he paused, finally noticing the slight points peeking out from her midnight-colored hair, just under the silver mage circlet she wore. “Ah! Excuse me, I didn’t notice…” he said, laughing with the slightest bit of nervousness. “You ARE an Elven child… You must think my accent is atrocious.”

Color returned to the pale cheeks of the girl. “Only half,” she corrected, drawing a self conscious hand to her right ear. “I was raised by my human mother, though. I never was raised by my father, whose blood allows me this magic. My mother tells me he was just a common wood elf. She says I have his hair…”

A confused look crossed Otabek’s eyes before he shook his head. “All are welcome here. Don’t worry, I hate people who discriminate so just tell me if anyone gives you trouble for your lineage.” It made sense now why this child seemed so nervous. Otabek had seen how half-bred beings could be treated, even within the palace walls. Sometimes particularly within the palace walls. He turned sharply, clearing his throat. “Regardless, we are due to leave, I see our horses are prepared.” Otabek cast a glance to the door that led to the outside. There stood a rather broad man whose clothing marked him as a stable hand. The man nodded in affirmation.

Otabek raised his voice, speaking to all of his men. “We are leaving, as you know, for the Northern forest. We are to capture a young blond-haired, green-eyed fae that resides there. If you all follow my direction exactly, you will return unscathed. We are to leave at once, so if anyone has anything they’ve left behind, I suggest you think of it now,” Otabek paused, glancing around to see his staff standing tall and ready. A smile crossed his lips as he returned the circlet to his brow. “Very well then. We leave now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *“Mae g’ovannen!” – Sindarin Elvish for “Well met!” Or literally, “You are well met!”  
> **“I faer nîn linna nan glass, hîr vuin! Mae g’ovannen!” – Sindarin Elvish for “Thank you from my heart, my Lord! Well Met!” Or literally, “My soul sings with joy, my Lord! You are well met!”


	4. Previously Met

This section of the great forest seemed more dreary than Yuri seemed to remember it from all those years ago. It seemed to be losing its ethereal beauty, though, Yuri supposed, that made sense. This section had once been in the charge of his former teacher before his disappearance. The missing and presumed dead, Viktor Nikiforov. It seemed that no one had been tending to it in his absence, which Yuri found somehow depressing.

An irritated scowl formed on his brow as his fair feet touched the very edge of the same faerie fall that he had met Otabek eight years ago. It also happened to be the same fall that Viktor had met the human man he had run off with many years before that, though Yuri presumed that the elder wouldn’t have known that he had been watching. The silver-haired fae had always been oblivious. Insultingly enough they had shared a name, Yuri recalled, though the pronunciation was different.

The blond stepped into the tepid pool of water, sighing softly as he lowered himself into it. Gossamer clothing seemed to disappear into faint traces of glitter as it met the fluid. “I wish he would hurry up,” Yuri muttered to himself in an impatient tone. Slowly he traced a wet hand over his body, from his wrist to his shoulder and then down his bare chest, groaning at the tingling sensation of the rejuvenating waters. This pool was far from his own territory and yet he preferred it. Somehow the water was more relaxing than his personal pools, though maybe that was just him being the slightest bit nostalgic to a time before he had been given his own territory. Viktor had often brought him here after their training, allowing the fae child to make ripples in his calm waters. Yuri slapped the water in anger as he recalled the happy memories of the faerie that he now regarded as an enemy; a betrayer to his own kind. How could he just abandon his forest and family for a human? How could he just leave it all behind? How could he leave Yuri behind?

“Fuck, Viktor!” He shouted, folding his arms and slumping into the water so that his head dipped under, his nose just barely peeking up through the surface. His skin buzzed pleasantly in the comforting water. “But… Aren’t I doing the same thing as that idiot?” Yuri thought, a faint blush blossoming on his pale skin. He burst out of the water as he shouted, “I am nothing like him!” Yuri wasn’t sure if he was quite so convinced though. Why exactly was he doing this? A hunch? Was that ever a good reason to do anything?

“I thought I might find you here.”

The voice startled Yuri into standing, his body dripping from his bath. Quickly he whirled and glared at the fae behind him, cursing her ability to come and go far more silently than should be possible, even among their breed. “Mila…” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest as clothing began to gradually form on his body again, summoned by the slight faerie’s quickly drying flesh. “What is it?” He asked, wings flitting in irritation. “I was trying to relax. I was trying not to be found. Why are you here?”

The red-haired women rolled her eyes, her right hand toying with the hem of her short flowing dress. “I knew you’d be here, you’re not very good at trying not to be found,” she criticized before sighing softly. “Yakov’s calling you, you know? I don’t really appreciate being sent out here to collect you when you ignore him. I do have other things to do.” Her tone seemed irritable yet tired, as if she had grown used to this annoyance in her life. “He’s going to lose his top if you don’t come along soon. He wants to check up on you and make sure you’re not…” she stopped, making a face briefly. A huff escaped her lips. “Yuri, why are you doing this, anyway?” She asked, folding her arms across her full chest. “I don’t get it, was losing Viktor not enough? You want to make those rats come trampling into our home again? Do you want them to take you away too? You know that’s all they’re good at – destroying things.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, not you too, hag. I’m not going to be carried off by some human, I’m better than that! I’m not some weak idiot who can’t handle myself! I’m not-“ he stopped short, face twisting in anger at what he’d been about to say. “I’m not like Viktor!” He wanted to scream it at her, “I’m better than Viktor!”

He couldn’t explain it, there was just a feeling inside Yuri, something that compelled him to seek this man out after first seeing him those many years ago. Eight years ago had been unexpected. It, however, hadn’t been their first meeting. That had taken place the very day that Otabek had first come to the Southern city. A small fae had snuck out with his silver-haired teacher to do something they were forbidden. Viktor had dressed the adolescent in some sort of baggy and lace-covered clothing that helped to hide the wings that were on his back. At the time, Yuri had been unable to hide his wings from human eyes but that wasn’t going to stop Viktor.

“Remember! Don’t move your wings. Keep them flat against your skin. Humans don’t have wings. I’m going to take you to see a friend of mine, okay? But you can’t tell Yakov.” Viktor had said, pale hands fussing with the small boy’s pale pink clothing. He had been so excited. Yuri had looked at himself in a passing window as they walked through the town and couldn’t help but to think how wrong he looked. Weren’t these human girl clothes? As he pondered, Yuri had pulled his small hand from the elder’s larger palm, fussing with the itchy lace. Were all human clothes this constricting? Especially these shiny black things that Viktor had placed on his feet. Shoes, he remembered they were called.

Yuri looked up, noticing that the back of the silver-haired fae had disappeared into the crowd. What a time for Viktor to be oblivious. Yuri’s eyes had widened, a pang of fear cutting through his chest. He had never so much as seen a human before that day and yet there he was, alone and in the center of a swarm of them. He, much to his embarrassment, had to have looked quite scared as he looked around because it hadn’t been more than five minutes until someone grabbed his elbow.

“You’re lost?”

That was the first time Yuri had laid eyes on such an extraordinary person. The strange accent he had made Yuri feel somehow less worried about his own. He nodded at the other boy.

“Come with me. I’m new here too but I’m with a guard, maybe she can help.” No one had ever sounded so kind before. “My name is Otabek. Otabek Altin. What’s yours?”

Yuri swallowed, taking the human boy’s hand in his own and following him as he hurried towards the stern looking young woman in silver-toned armor. “It’s ah… It’s Yura.”

“Yura… Your name. It’s pretty,” the dark-haired boy had said, smiling at Yuri with a genuine look in his eyes. Yuri found his youthful cheeks turning red at the remark. This boy probably thought that he was a girl, Yuri later thought as he got older, and yet it didn’t stop the attraction he’d felt that day. It blossomed in him the more he had spied on the human male, in secret, of course. However, there was also something strange about the dark-haired man, Yuri noticed through the years. The way he used his magic was atypical. It almost reminded him of…

Yuri came back to the reality of his situation as Mila called to him once more, becoming impatient.

“Are you coming or not?” She asked. Her hips had swung to the side as she tapped her foot irritably. “I don’t have time for this daydreaming, fae child.”

Yuri’s brow wrinkled. “I’m not a child! I had the age of coming four years ago! You know that! Hag!” His damp, bare feet stepped from the pool onto the moss around it. “And yes, I’m fucking coming. Lead the way, old woman!” He said, lifting from the ground as his wings beat. “Let’s get this over with, I just wanted to relax today.”

\-----

Otabek took the lead as he swung the blade, cutting through the brush in order to clear a path for the horses. The guards behind him had found it odd, a Magister of any kind working on their level, but after a while they had accepted that this man was unlike the others. Otabek had always been the kind of man who believed in sharing the workload with his peers, no matter how taxing that it might be. Sweat hung on his brow as he hacked at the vines. The forest should clear a bit more soon, he knew, as the brush was always worse around the edges. Once inside, the lessened amount of sunlight would limit the amount of low growing plant life.

Thankfully it had been less than two hours of work until they broke into easier ground. The flow of magical energy swelled inside of him as he felt the cool of the faerie’s forest. It was just as comforting as it had been back then. Otabek flashed a grin back at his men, whom he did not notice were not as at ease as he was. To them the forest held a dangerous chill, but they carried on regardless, the slightest bit reassured by their leader’s easygoing smile.

“I remember this section of the forest well,” Otabek said, gesturing broadly. “We are in fae territory but you would never see one this close to the edge. It’s about a half day’s walk to where the faerie circles and pools begin, and about a day’s until the first faerie fall. That is where he was the last time, so I believe that is a good place to start. Once closer, I will begin tracking more closely to see if I can pick up any trace of his power. This will require patience, understood?” Every man and woman nodded, though most of them did not understand what he meant by tracking. They seemed to shrug it off as a wizard’s trifle.

The young woman in yellow was the only one who furrowed her brow. After a few more steps she dismounted her horse and approached her elder, hands wringing nervously at the hem of her surcoat. “M-Magister Altin?” She said quietly, keeping hushed so that the guard would not hear her. “Magister, could you explain to me how you plan to track the fae? Usually mages use devices to do this, so I am curious of your preferred method.”

Otabek glanced over at her before looking back in front of him, carefully following the path he knew. “Oh? Yes, I’ve never had much luck with those things…” he began, stepping over a fell tree before holding out a hand to her. She took it and climbed over. “I could never activate them, strangely enough. So I learned a method for myself. I focus the flow of my energy into my eyes and from there I can usually see very vague traces of auras, sort of like a very thin fog that radiates off of a living being. Humans vary in color but are almost always on the red spectrum. Elven folk are usually green shades. Fae tend to be on the blue spectrum. If you want, I can teach you how to do it? It’s not terribly hard to do, it’s just tiring to keep up on. I can usually do it for about six minutes or so before my eyes strain, and maybe three or four times a day.”

Silver-blue eyes widened as he spoke but she forced the surprise off of her face. “That is powerful magic, Magister Altin, I never thought I would meet a mage capable of that. I had heard of aura reading back home from the Elven folk. I thought the practice was lost on human mages, they told me that…” she paused, glancing up at the tanned male’s handsome features as if searching for something. Finally she spoke again, “Are… Are you like me?”

Otabek glanced at her again, not really understanding what she meant at first. It dawned on him a moment later. “Ah!” He said, laughing softly, raising his hand to scratch at the back of his head. “No, both of my parents were as human as could be. Sometimes I wish they hadn’t been but that’s nothing I could change. Anyway… I had heard it was rare but I didn’t know some areas considered it a dead art.”

Valeria nodded softly, blushing. “Sorry for the implication, sir. I didn’t mean anything by it. However, if possible, I would like to learn your method.”

“Otabek,” he said, smiling as he strode in front of her.

“Huh?” She said, blinking.

“My name. You can call me Otabek. I don’t much care for the formality of sir or Magister Altin. Just call me Otabek please.”

The Elven halfbreed smiled suddenly, hurrying forward to walk directly behind him. “Y-Yes, Otabek.”


	5. Orders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I'm late! I actually could swear I posted this a couple of days ago but I guess I didn't. D: Here it is though!! Please enjoy!

Valeria swatted at the various parasitic flies that were swarming around her face and neck as they walked, silvery eyes peering over at the broad-shouldered Magister that she walked beside rather closely. Strangely enough, she noticed, the bugs seemed not to bother him. It was as if his blood was completely unpalatable to them, which she found a little strange. The rapidly setting sun had brought these buzzing insects with it and it seemed that even the threat of the torches they carried did not frighten them. The faintest glow illuminated her superior’s face as it radiated from his eyes in an eerie fog, the odd pale blue color sending a shiver up her spine. He had begun his magic as soon as they had happened upon the first faerie fall and had been pleased to see the faintest trail left behind.

Otabek followed it as closely as he could, noticing silently that there appeared to be two shades. This excited him further. More trails meant more chances that they could find the fae that they were searching for in particular. He moved swiftly, trying to make the most of the very limited time that he had using this ability. “Valeria,” he called suddenly, feeling his eyes rapidly approaching their limit. “Would you like to try?”

She swallowed and nodded, watching as the glow gradually subsided from his eyes, returning them to their deep chestnut origin. “I would like to try, yes,” she said, standing tall. She found herself nearly a full head over her superior and slumped again, feeling uncomfortable.

“Don’t slouch,” Otabek instructed softly, ignoring the eyes that peered curiously at their backs. “Stand tall. You need to calm all areas in your body first. Relax. Close your eyes.”

His deep baritone voice caused her to flush as she did what he instructed. Breathing deeply, her cool-colored eyes fluttered to a close. Gradually she began to push the magical flow that pulsed within her towards her eyes, pooling it there. It burned a little, but she bit back the complaint. Otabek smiled at her as he watched her do as he had instructed earlier. Her eyes opened suddenly, a weak green glow emitting from where one would expect her irises to be but where nothing but white currently lay. The veins in her neck corded as she gasped, drawing a hand to her lips.

“What is it?” Otabek asked, becoming slightly worried. “Are you feeling okay? Are you hurt?” She seemed to both shake her head and nod at the same time, confusing Otabek. He clasped a hand on her shoulder, shaking her a little. “Dissipate it,” He ordered, “What is it? Speak!”

The glow stopped suddenly, her irises trembling as they resurfaced against the whites of her eyes. Valeria shook her head a little, bringing a hand up to cover her now aching eyes. “I-I’m sorry! I don’t think I did it,” she began, a jolt of pain shooting through her sinuses. A soft grimace crossed her face before she went on, slowly lowering her hand to look at her superior. Her eyes were blurry and unfocused. “I… What I saw didn’t make sense. I’m sorry.”

Otabek laid a hand on her back and looked back to Anya. Catching her eye, he jerked his head forward to signal her to come closer. She complied immediately, stepping forward to place an arm around the young woman’s waist. “Please organize your thoughts. Rest on horseback for now,” he said to her quietly before looking up at Anya. “Ride second to her on my horse. Support her if she falls asleep. I might have had her attempt something beyond her but she should be alright.”

Anya nodded and took the girl back into the line of horses. Otabek watched her hoist the dark-haired youth onto the great stallion and sighed softly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had been sure that she would have been capable of this but perhaps this skill really was as rare as she had mentioned before. Otabek counted himself lucky for this ability before closing his eyes, relaxing them for a moment. He knew that doing this so soon was pushing at his limits but what more of a chance would they have if the trails completely dissipated? As he opened his eyes the soft blue fog began to once more radiate from iris bereft eyes. It dripped languidly down his cheeks as he began walking once more, brows turned downwards in a concentrated stare. The ache in the back of his eyes began almost at once but it remained ignored.

“Follow closely,” he instructed his staff, his pace speeding up very slightly. The path had already begun to fade further in those few minutes that his ability had not been activated. “We have to move quickly.”

\-----

Yuri puffed as he sat down in the wing-backed velvet chair, irritated green eyes glaring at the elder fae who sat across the long table from him. With a grunt he slouched, slinging a long and slender leg over an arm of the chair. “I’m here, so what is it?” He asked, voice low.

Yakov gave the faerie youth a look that told him to keep quiet. After a moment more he stood and folded his arms across his chest, large wings flitting for a second. “Yuri, you have to stay out of the Southern section of the forest. Out of Vitya’s land, in particular. This isn’t a request. It’s an order. I’m giving it to another fae to care for, so you no longer have any need to visit it.”

“What?!” Yuri bolted upright in the chair, leg falling back down next to the other. “Who? Who did you give it to?! If anything it should have been mine! I know that section better than anyone else!” The faint glow of his wings darkened with his anger, the shimmering dewy shapes extending out of their relaxed position. “This decision is ridiculous, you can’t just-“

Yakov slammed his fist against the table, angry grey eyes casting down upon the slight faerie’s form. Yuri shivered under the icy stare yet his glare did not yield. “I put Christophe in charge of Vitya’s forest. He is more than capable.”

Prussian green eyes bulged as he shot up and out of the chair, knocking it over behind him. “That foreigner?! You really are an idiot! He doesn’t have the skill needed to care for Viktor’s land! He’s a fire wielder, Yakov! He’s going to burn down everything Viktor and I worked on in that fucking forest! I won’t accept this! Put him in Sara and Michele’s territory; the rocky lands to the West are far more suited to a fae like Christophe! Let the twins take over my territory and give me Viktor’s! That is the more logical way to do this! The Southern section Viktor had is far more suited to-“

“An earth wielding fae. Viktor was ill suited to that land, just as you are, Yuri. You belong in the North where I placed you. Your ice will not melt up there and to be blunt, you will have a harder time playing with humans. Humans in the Northern lands are virtually nonexistent. I am done tolerating your frivolous interest in those rats! Christophe has Vitya’s territory until a new earth fae is born, then they will inherit it from Christophe. Or would you prefer I keep you in my central territory, in the fae’s city? I could take away your land and give it to another ice fae.” The threat made Yuri freeze, eyes widening. Yakov stared at him sternly, eyes unwavering. “Those are your options. Keep your ice lands and stay out of the South… Or stay in this city. Choose.”

Yuri’s face twisted in rage as he shoved the table towards the elder. The glittering candelabra wobbled and toppled over, clattering against the finely polished wood. “As if I have a fucking choice!! Fuck you, Yakov! How dare you! You’re making me a prisoner!”

Wrinkled hands picked up the candelabra, placing it upright on the table. “It’s for your own good, Yuri. If you keep playing with humans you are going to get hurt, just like Vitya did. You should know better! Now I suggest you make your way to your lands before I change my mind and make you stay here.” Yakov pointed towards the large mahogany doors that led out of the great room.

A small growl exited the younger fae’s lips before he stepped back to kick the table so that the silvery candelabra fell once more. “Fine!” He shouted as he began walking towards the door, icy footprints littering the stone floor behind him as he went.

The door slammed as he exited, shaking the windows of the room. Yakov sat down once more, sighing deeply. He hung his head, a shaking hand raising to rub worriedly at his forehead. “I’ve already lost one son to them, Yuri…” he whispered, pain evident in his voice, “I won’t lose another to those monsters. Even if I have to lock you in a cage.” Slowly the elder fae raised his hands to his head, removing the gold-toned circlet he wore to toss it on the abused table next to him. It clattered softly.

A knock at the door a few minutes later made the old faerie’s head snap up. “What is it?” His gruff voice called out as he hurriedly placed the circlet back onto his grey haired head. “Enter!”

With a small creak the door swung open, allowing entrance to a rather tall and well-built faerie. His golden and brown hair shined in the dim candlelight as he approached the table, a grim frown on his stumbled face. “We have a problem,” he said, bowing slightly so the curled tresses on his head fell forward to shadow his face. Yakov waved a hand at him, a sign to go on. The blond nodded as he stood tall again. “Humans have invaded the Southern section of our lands. I saw them myself when I was taking a cursory glance around my new charge. There are six. Two are magically inclined.”

Yakov’s expression became grim. “Describe the magically inclined humans, Christophe.”

The built fae nodded. “One is a young female with black hair and silver eyes. She appears to be an elf, but I couldn’t get close enough to note if she’s pure or a mixed blood. The elder is a male with tanned skin and black hair that he had held back in a decorated bun. He seems human enough but…” a small pause as he thought of how to word it, “But he seems to have abnormally strong abilities for one. His eyes glow with some kind of tracking magic. I was worried that he would notice me but I believe that I avoided him. He is following Mila’s and Yuri’s trail. Should I engage them?”

A fist rapped against the tabletop as Yakov growled. “He’s gone and done it,” he muttered before looking up at the tall, capable faerie before him. “Take Georgi and Emil. Keep this silent and get rid of them. I don’t want anyone else to know about this… especially not Yuri. No survivors.”

Christophe smiled wickedly, nodding. With a flourish he turned, white garments practically floating with the excited energy he gave off. He giggled, a faint blush blessing his cheeks. “As you wish, your majesty.”


End file.
